one year
by phoenix on ice
Summary: It's been one year since graduation and the war, written from draco's pov. WARNING: CHARACTER DEATH SUICIDE FIC! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED... rated for depressing sentiments.This is my first angst so i have no idea what you'll think, so tell me


**Disclaimer: oh yeah I own it all…hey look a pig just flew by my window! Oh never mind, the next door neighbour's dinosaur just ate it. And just in case you didn't get it, that was sarcasm. Of course I don't own any of it, if I did I would be loaded and more than likely have no time to write anymore because my social life would be too hectic.**

**Authors Note: ok, so I've never wrote angst before, I hardly ever read it even but I sat down to write and before I knew it this was there, so I guess it was in there and just had to get out. If it sucks- sorry. If it's good- let me know.**

**Yeoldecrazy1.**

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Thump…

Thud…

Drip, Drip, Drip…

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Exactly one year ago today I graduated. It was supposed to be one of the best days in my life, but it turned out to be one of the worst.

The war showed up on our doorstep and only three people were prepared. Professor Dumbledore; he didn't even think before he got everyone out of the way. Clear the field as it were. Professor Snape, head of Slytherin; and as we found out that day, a death eater spy. His job was to contact the ministry and to rally the teachers to defend the school. And Harry Potter.

No one knew exactly how prepared he was for the final day until it happened. When Toms voice rang out through the air he didn't even blink, just reached for his wand cast a spell and waited.

I don't know if anyone else saw him cast that spell but I did. I was watching him, not because of what was happening; I was watching him because I'd been watching him for seven years and that day was going to be no different.

They tried to figure out the spell; but apparently Mr. Potter's some what of a spell inventor, who knew. I didn't; and let me tell you I knew more than you'd think about Harry Potter, the boy who lived. I knew things his best friends would be shocked to find out, not that I'd tell them. What would his perfect little friends say if they knew he snuck out in the middle of the night to go flying at break neck speeds? The things he did on that broom should have killed him a hundred times over but I guess when you're not afraid you can manage a lot that you couldn't otherwise. He didn't eat enough, not that it mattered in the end but he had serious eating problems.

Every Tuesday he went up to the astronomy tower and walked up onto the roof, walked over to the edge and looked. I know he contemplated jumping every time he was up there; but he never did. He knew he couldn't because he knew when he was going to die.

How many people do you know that know the day their going to die and walk into that day as calm as any other?

I never really understood him. Maybe that's why I studied him so much. Maybe that's the reason my journal was more of his biography than mine. Maybe I just loved him and was trying to find some other reason for the things I did.

Now I don't know if I truly loved him, it seemed much more complicated than that, it was more I was obsessed with him. For example; who can say they know exactly what Harry ate for breakfast. Oh yes; he had a specific routine; Monday was cereal, Tuesday was toast, Wednesday was a fry, Thursday he skipped eating breakfast and Friday he had fruit and pancakes. Weekends varied.

He was right handed, but always carried books etc in his left hand so he could use his wand at any given moment.

He loved dark chocolate and hated cherries. He smiled at everything, but the dimple in his right cheek would only show when he laughed.

He loved his friends and above every thing else; he loathed his fame.

He didn't let it show, but every time he was called the boy who lived the sparkle went out of his eyes.

No one calls him that any more. Now it's Harry Potter, the saviour of the wizarding world; or Harry Potter, war hero.

I hate that they call him a hero. First he was a hero for living at the age of one, and then he was a hero for dying at the age of seventeen.

You can't call someone the boy who lived when he's dead. But he shouldn't be called a hero; he took the easy way out. He let himself be killed. Instead of fighting he used all his power to bind his life force to Riddles, so when he walked right up to him and cast the killing curse, he killed himself. And as quickly as it started it was over. The death eaters fled but were caught by the ministry, now they rot in Azkaban, and while we live out the rest of our lives Potter died. But he didn't die alone, and I'm not talking about the dark lord here. As his body fell to the ground I knew he was dead. I felt it, because I died too, on the insides at least.

No one could figure out why I was so reserved after graduation, or at least not the real reason. Some blamed it on the fact that my father was taken to Azkaban with the others. Some thought I was upset because the dark lord fell. No one thought it could have anything to do with Harry.

Harry; I only called him Harry once.

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It was the morning of graduation and I was taking a walk around the ground early in the morning, thinking about what I was going to do after that day. He was out flying and I sat down to watch him, realising it might be the last time I got to watch him fly. Coming out of a trick nose dive he saw me and flew over.

"What do you want Malfoy?" I miss that voice, even if everything he ever said to me was laced with despise.

"Nothing, I was just walking and saw you flying."

"And?"

"And nothing; just thinking about the fact that you and I will never fight over the snitch again."

"Oh? And what; you sad because I'm not going to beat you to it ever again. That you never got to win against me."

"More like I'm sorry I never got to let go like you did on the pitch. I never just flew, it was always about winning. I guess that's why I always lost. I just wish that I'd played for the fun, and now I'll never get to see if I was as good as you."

The look on his face; I'll never forget it. It was as if he looked right through me and saw that I meant every word I said. It was the first time he looked at me, not as his enemy, but just as his fellow student.

"Get a broom."

"What?"

"If you want to find out get a broom." And he turned and headed back onto the pitch.

When I returned he was holding onto a golden ball, a snitch.

"Where did you get that?"

"My godfather, I found it in his house after he died."

"Oh…sorry."

"It's the past."

I looked at him when he said that. It was like looking at a new person; he wasn't just talking about his godfather's death, he was talking about us. Seven years of hostility was forgotten in one look. And then he released the snitch.

We continued to look at each other for a minute, just trying to figure out the person in front of us. Then giving one of those cocky grins of his which I retuned with my patented smirk; we flew.

It wasn't about winning and it wasn't about rivalries. It was just two guys looking towards a common goal. I've never flown like I did that day, so free to be myself, no one judging me or expecting anything from me.

And when my eyes locked onto the snitch and I flew towards it, it wasn't about beating Potter and it wasn't about winning. It was about flying and it was about the snitch. I didn't even know where Potter was.

And when my hands clasped onto the golden ball it was like the world didn't matter. And as I came back to reality I noticed that the ball was bigger than normal, and when I looked down I noticed that not only was I holding the golden snitch, but I was holding onto a hand, Harry's hand. Looking left I found myself looking into the greenest eyes in existence.

"Well, that was unexpected."

"Yeah, so I guess all these years I've been just as good as you."

Holding up our joined hands, the silver wings still fluttering between them he smiled. "As good as each other."

"So, call it a tie?"

"Yeah, great match Draco."

"You too Harry." And dropping our hands he flew down to the ground and walked away. Half an hour later when I came back to reality I realised I still held the snitch in my hand.

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One year. One year since I left Hogwarts.

One year since I felt happiness, completeness.

One year since I found him, and one year since he left me.

Thump… the blade fell to the ground.

Thud… I sat down on the grass.

Drip, Drip, Drip… I watch as the blood made crimson pools at my sides.

One year since I'd looked into those green eyes.

One year too long.

If he could take the easy way out then so could I.

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**_Daily Prophet_**

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**_The body of Draco Malfoy was found on the Quidditch pitch of _****_Hogwarts_********_School_****_ of witch craft and wizardry this morning, having both of his wrists slit. The authorities expect that it was suicide as only the victims prints were found on the blade beside the body. Being the sole heir to the Malfoy fortune his will stated that everything should be left to the school, stating that it was the only place he every found happiness._**

**_The only thing that baffled the ministry was the snitch they found gripped in his left hand._**

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**Note: So, what did ya think? Reviews don't take long and they are really appreciated, even if it's just letting me know that you read it. Thanks for reading…**


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